


Let's Call This Plan B

by slashmania



Series: life is stranger [3]
Category: Inception (2010), Stranger Than Fiction (2006)
Genre: For Christmas I wanted more BAMF!Arthur and Writer!Eames, M/M, but only possibly, possibly dangerous situations in dreamshare, yay presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:21:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22029241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmania/pseuds/slashmania
Summary: Once Arthur and Eames started working together, they'd developed a system for when they were separated. Arthur would try to find Eames as quickly as possible and Eames would try to make contact if he could get his hands on some paper and a pen.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Series: life is stranger [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1226819
Kudos: 19





	Let's Call This Plan B

**Author's Note:**

> It's so nice to revisit these characters! And though the two fics have no connection, I gave Eames a Meriwether of Montana journal that I mention in _Arthur's Answer to Bad Days and Bad Jobs_.

Arthur and Eames had come quite far from their beginnings, really. And it was times like this that Arthur was happy that he had given Eames such thorough training in dreamshare.

Arthur had been tied up, separated from Eames, and locked in a crude cell.

Arthur grimaced at the thought of what they could possibly be doing to Eames in the other cell. If there was another cell, if Eames hadn’t already been shot in the back of the head and dumped somewhere.

Arthur stopped himself from drawing another panicked breath and focused once more on the task at hand. His arms were tied behind his back. He had to free himself and get ready to defend himself if he had to. Then he would find Eames.

He would find Eames if the man didn’t try to make contact in the way they discussed, the way they practiced, first. 

* * *

Eames wasn’t tied to the chair he’d been forced to sit down in after he’d been thrown into the dreary room, but several goons were standing around him, each attempting to look frightening.

To their credit, they were frightening. But Eames kept smiling up at them as they continued to question him. They couldn’t learn that they were having any effect on him. That would make everything he was planning go wrong.

“We want to know who sent you,” one goon leaned in and asked Eames. Eames turned his face away from him and grimaced a little.

“And _I_ want to know what you had for lunch, sir?! Did it have garlic in it or something?”

The goon stood up straight and glanced self-consciously at his peers, then looked back at Eames.

“I bet if you ask my partner very nicely he’ll give you a mint.”

The goon with bad breath glared at the suggestion, but Eames noticed how the man cupped one hand in front of his mouth, breathed out and took a hesitant sniff to see if it was really as bad as Eames suggested. The face the goon made was enough.

“You two,” he said to the others, “keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t do anything funny.”

Eames refrained from making a comment or joke. Eames wasn’t even going to say that Arthur thought his sense of humor was excellent. He wasn’t even going to tease with that. Let them find that out for themselves if they survived.

The door closed and the two goons playing guards stared at Eames stonily.

“So!” Eames began, voice calm, even a little chipper all things considered with the situation he was currently in. “I was wondering if either of you happened to have my little notepad on you?”

The two goons stared at him, but didn’t seem to want to answer him.

Since Eames wasn’t tied up, only just sitting in an uncomfortable chair, he made it a point to lean back, cross his legs, and attempt to sound nonchalant as fuck.

Another little trick Eames had picked up from Arthur.

So Eames began to describe it in great detail. “It’s more of a journal instead of a notepad, really. If we had to make the distinction, I would say that it’s a journal- it has a funny phrase printed on the front cover. The cover says _This Meeting Is Bullshit_.”

Eames was waiting for a response from either of the goons but was disappointed when they chose to remain silent.

“I will be so disappointed, even more disappointed than I am right now, if I learn that you dumped my _This Meeting Is Bullshit_ journal in the trash! That was a present!”

Finally one of the goons presented the journal to Eames, dumping it on the forger’s lap.

“Are you going to shut the fuck up now?”

Eames raised an eyebrow and searched for the pen that he had stuck in the wire binding of the journal- the pen was gone.

“Look, I’ve been a good prisoner. Hey, maybe I’ve even been a great prisoner considering the circumstances,” Eames reasoned. “I haven’t hurt any of you, I’ve been fairly polite, and this is really the only demand I’ve made so far. But if I’m going to politely and quietly pass the time writing in my _This Meeting Is Bullshit_ journal, I’ll need my pen back.”

Eames waited patiently for a response. He didn’t get one. Instead, he was tossed a pen.

Eames plucked it up from where it landed, once again, on his lap. It was a standard Bic pen. It obviously wasn’t his. Eames brought this up with the goons.

“Where did my pen go?”

Goon number one, who tossed both the _This Meeting Is Bullshit_ journal and the shitty pen that obviously didn’t belong to Eames, shrugged and said, “You will use the pen we just gave you.”

Goon number two nodded his agreement. “We shouldn’t even be giving you things that you could use to attack us with but we want you to just shut up.”

“But what I’m asking you still stands- where in the ever loving fuck did _my_ pen go?”

“That is your pen now.”

“Just accept the pen and stop bothering us.”

Eames narrowed his eyes, flipped open the journal to a blank page, and started writing with the pen that obviously wasn’t his because he didn’t chew on the end of his pens. But he still chatted as he was writing.

_Arthur was ready to take another adventure with Eames, but first he would need to be aware of a few things._

“My pen was a lot nicer than this pen.”

_The goon who would likely call himself the leader is on his way to Arthur’s cell. This man has very bad breath, will want breath mints, and has at least two weapons on his person. This man has one semiautomatic pistol and one knife._

“My pen could write upside down and underwater. I’m sure that my pen could also write in space.”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I will take away that journal and do something unpleasant with that pen.”

Eames looked up after making one final note, a quick _Eames can take care of his two goons, so just have fun beating the shit out of the goon whose breath smells overpoweringly of garlic, Arthur_ and then said out loud to the goons in front of him, “Don’t be afraid to dream bigger. Show me your imagination, darlings! Vague and empty threats do nothing for me!”

* * *

Arthur had gotten the ropes untied but kept his hands behind his back to preserve the image of a ‘still tied up hostage’ once he heard someone at the door.

He’d gotten Eames’s little narration driven messages loud and clear—the man must have gotten his hands on a piece of paper or a pencil. He was going to be upset enough when he realized that one of the goons had pocketed the pen Arthur had bought him as a present.

The door swung open and the first thing Arthur said to the man who entered was “Give my partner back his fucking pen.”

The goon froze in the doorway, eyebrows raised as he listened to Arthur’s demand.

“What is with you guys?” The goon demanded. “He bitches about my breath and _you_ bitch about some pen that I don’t have.”

Arthur waited patiently, saying nothing and still pretending to have his hands tied behind his back.

The goon cleared his throat and asked for mints. Politely.

“May I please have some mints?”

“May my partner have his pen back?” Arthur answered with the question the goon didn’t care about. The goon was creeping closer anyway, really wanting those mints that Arthur didn’t really have.

He’d probably be a little pissed when he noticed that he didn’t have the mints, but maybe that was all Arthur needed for him to get nice and close...

The goon was frowning, still creeping closer and looking upset. “I don’t have his pen! It looked like a stupid pen anyway!”

Arthur was going to ignore that comment. He had the untied rope ready for use as anything from a restraint to a handy way to strangle this guy long enough for him to pass out.

“Fine, I’ll stop talking about the pen,” Arthur said. “If you want the mints you’re going to have to kneel in front of me and reach into my jacket pocket.”

The goon glared at him, reaching for his gun! “No! You’ll get on your feet!”

Arthur rolled his eyes and said, “Asshole, do you remember how long I’ve been tied up here? I can’t even feel my feet! Do you want me to fall over and crack my head open?”

“Yes,” the goon hissed at Arthur, and that made it obvious that what Eames had said was true. Arthur turned his face away and made a face of disgust, “Ugh, man! I know you need the mints now, I get it! You didn’t have to prove it by breathing on me like that!”

The goon stopped and grew a little pink. He covered his mouth with one hand, and then did another sniff test which made him glance at Arthur and apologize.

“I’m sorry,” the goon with awful breath said. “We went to lunch before all of this happened and it’s true, I had way too much garlic. I had so much garlic bread. I had the lasagna too. I just can’t help it; I love that sort of cooking. I’m sure you’re thinking, _Well why don’t you just brush and floss after meals like that_ , right?”

Arthur felt that his cooperation in the conversation would probably be better considering that he and Eames had been caught escaping after a successful extraction on this guy’s boss. Maybe the longer they talked about this innocent stuff that had absolutely nothing to do with dreamshare he and Eames would survive.

“Sure,” Arthur answered. “Dentists love to suggest that sort of stuff, but who keeps a toothbrush, toothpaste, and floss on them at all times?”

The goon’s eyes widened as he nodded quickly, thinking he’d found an unlikely ally for this topic. “Right? I’m so glad you understand! It’s so hard to do that each and every time. It didn’t matter that I bought a box of those toothbrushes that are packed in plastic and already have toothpaste on them- I kept getting funny looks when I’d take one out of my pocket along with my floss.”

“Do you use the old fashioned string floss or do you use those little flossers that look like they’ve got toothpicks on them?”

The goon answered quickly, warming to the subject and getting closer to Arthur. “I’ve tried both. The waxed mint flavored string floss that comes in a box is easier to carry around since the little flossers usually ended up falling out of my pocket or stabbing me with the little pick.”

“So you’re saying that you would do both brushing and flossing after all of your meals if others didn’t sort of make fun of you for it.”

The goon with bad breath but good dental health intentions nodded quickly once more. “Oh they all make fun of me for it. The other guys, the boss, whichever chick the boss is seeing. Everyone likes to tease me a bit for it, so after awhile I just didn’t do it as often. So when your partner mentioned my breath I got a little self-conscious over it. That’s why I’m so glad you have mints with you.”

The goon was now getting ready to kneel in front of Arthur, his hands empty of weapons so he could carefully check Arthur’s coat pockets for the mints Eames had apparently assured him could be found there.

“Hey,” Arthur said when the goon leaned in closer but politely kept his mouth closed so he didn’t breathe in Arthur’s face, checking Arthur’s right pocket first and finding nothing there. He was moving to check the left pocket, but paused when Arthur spoke.

“I’m really sorry about this,” Arthur continued. “Aside from your job right now that sort of led you to have to hurt us and imprison us, I’m sure that you’re a nice guy off the clock. Like you wouldn’t know it but I’m a pretty nice guy when I’m not robbing peoples’ dreams. But you’re on the clock and will probably kill me and my partner once you’ve gotten those mints. So this is me, apologizing in advance for what I’m about to do.”

And then Arthur head butted the kneeling goon hard enough to break the man’s nose. Blood ran from the man’s broken nose as he yelled in surprise and pain!

Arthur pulled his untied hands from behind his back and gave the surprised goon a good shove, forcing the man to flop on his back. Arthur reconsidered this when he noticed how the goon began coughing and choking on his blood when he was left on his back. He carefully tipped the goon over on his side and then used the rope to tie his hands behind his back.

“Th- thank you,” the goon said thickly, spitting his own blood onto the cement floor.

Arthur stole the goon’s gun, took away his knife, and then patted him on the shoulder. “Not a problem, man,” Arthur said. “It wouldn’t do to let you chase after us. This way you’ll be nice and safe and your buddies can come get you when my partner and I have left!”

The goon turned his head and blinked up at Arthur. “That’s not what I’m thanking you for!”

Arthur was crouched next to the man.

“Is there anything else you would thank me for?”

The goon huffed and said, “Well first, thanks for not letting me choke on my blood back there. I wasn’t sure if you were going to let me roll around like this until I swallowed a little too much down the wrong pipe.”

“That wouldn’t be very polite of me.”

“And thanks for listening to me bitch about my problems.”

“Sure, how else was I supposed to get you that close to me, but also not let you suspect something underhanded like me ramming my forehead against your face?”

The goon didn’t have anything nice to say in response to that. Then he changed his mind and said, “Well, you could have broken my teeth instead of my nose, so I guess I can be grateful for that. Bad garlic breath or no, my mother would kill me if I ruined the smile she had to pay thousands of dollars for.”

Arthur winced. “Braces?”

“Headgear, two broken retainers, and extra appointments for when my teeth started to shift places while I was still in college...”

The goon could have gone on to waste what little time Arthur had and talk about how he really got into his current job because of the pay and benefits, though those benefits were of questionable origin sometimes, but still took the pressure off of his dear mother.

Arthur didn’t stick around to hear it. He patted the guy once more on the shoulder, double checked that his knots were nice and tight, and then left.

“Oh, hey!” The goon half-yelled once he realized Arthur was about to leave. Arthur paused at the doorway and looked back. “I lied about the pen. It’s in my back pocket, please take it.”

Arthur held up the pen he’d palmed after tying up the goon, smiling at him quickly. “I thought I’d help myself, but I appreciate your kindness!”

Then Arthur left.

* * *

“Give it back!”

“We don’t have it!”

“Just put down that chair, sit down, and I'll take back my pen!”

“Oh, _now_ you’re going to own up to being a dirty pen thief?”

Arthur opened the door to the cell and found something quite interesting taking place.

Eames had picked up the chair one of the two goons was asking him to sit down in again; though the goon's weapon drawn it was clear he didn't not want to risk firing it in such small quarters.

It was still a mistake to let Eames get his hands on something that passed for a weapon.

Eames was a big guy- broad shouldered, and about as tall as Arthur. The chair was a nice and heavy blunt object that Eames had plucked up by the back and was ready to swing at either of the goons facing him.

The chair had a metal frame. It looked delightfully dense, and if Eames was lucky, it might just successfully knock those goons out cold when the legs of the chair made contact with their thick skulls.

Arthur raised his stolen gun, cleared his throat, and said politely, “Gentlemen, I’d like to have my partner back, please.”

The goons hesitantly turned to look over their shoulders at Arthur, who had the gun, but then quickly glanced back at Eames, still armed with the heavy looking chair.

“Just tell him to drop that chair, then,” the first goon begged.

“Yeah, and tell him that we didn’t steal his pen!”

Eames hadn’t put down his chair, but he brightened noticeably when he heard Arthur’s voice.

“They’ve given me a half-gnawed Bic, darling! They insist that they have absolutely no idea what happened to the pen you gave me as a present with my journal. It’s amazing how things escalated when I picked up this chair to defend myself.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully, and then patted his shirt pocket. “I stole your pen back for you.”

Eames glanced at Arthur’s face, and grimaced a bit. “Don’t be alarmed, my dear, but did you know that you’re covered in someone else’s blood?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Don’t exaggerate. I doubt I look pretty, but the other guy is much worse.”

One of the goons took a chance and looked at Arthur again, wincing a little when he focused on the blood that Arthur hadn’t really had the time to clean off. Arthur honestly hadn’t even noticed it without a reflective surface between his cell and Eames’s.

“Is he...is he okay?”

Arthur assumed that the goon was asking about his friend with the bad breath. “I broke his nose. He’ll live. And you two will live too if you get the fuck out of my way, got it?”

The men, though armed and having something of a fair chance of surviving a fight against Arthur and Eames considering all the forger was armed with was a _chair_ , actually surrendered to Arthur, allowing him to hold them at gun point while they filed out of the cell, finally leading to Eames dropping his chair and snatching up his _This Meeting Is Bullshit_ journal.

“Ready to leave, darling?”

Arthur smiled at Eames, not lowering his weapon until the two goons had run off to find their third man.

“Let’s go!”Arthur took Eames’s free hand and they got the hell out of there together.


End file.
